


it’s our life together that sounds sane

by asiren (meliorismo)



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliorismo/pseuds/asiren
Summary: Philip Pearson: hacker, traveler, addict, in love.





	it’s our life together that sounds sane

**Author's Note:**

> unrevised.

Trevor kept bumping into shit around the garage, interrupting Philip’s daily ritual of feeding Poppy. His therapist insisted that he started to use that time to encounter his inner peace, whatever that meant, and he was determined to make it work.  _ How do you feel about quiet, Philip?,  _ she asked him once.  _ I feel like everyone else does, I guess.  _

_ On edge.  _

“Is this how underage drinking looks like?” Philip asked, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Poppy. You like lettuce.” 

“I wasn’t drinking! It’s just some anxiety meds that I’m not really used with.” 

“Your parents are incisive people, uh.” 

“You know that all the problems our host’s body had, we inherited.”

“Are you telling  _ me  _ that?” 

Trevor sighed, throwing his body on some couch Philip had laying around. The one with less holes and the red blanket. “What are you doing?” 

“Feeding Poppy, obviously. I have to leave soon, though. Are you going to be okay on your own?” 

“Yeah, sure. I will probably sleep here. Are you going to be back today?” 

“Sure. I will just go to a meeting.” 

“Two or three hours, then.” 

“Something like that.” Philip stopped, thinking, and then added: “Maybe more, actually. I’ll go to St. Louis today.”

“Why? Thought you liked Eason’s Hill.” 

“I like! It’s just I’m feeling suffocated there lately. Everyone knows me. It’s starting to feel weird that I say so little.” 

“Weird to you or to them?”

Philip breathed harshly, a little startled. Trevor was staring at him, unblinking, in that unervous way of his. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, good luck with St. Louis. And Poppy is going to bite your finger if you don't give her that lettuce.” 

“Eh! Bad tortoise!” 

**//**

Philip Pearson is softer than 3326 expected. There is something around his eyes, sad and a little scared, or around his mouth, that is permanently a thin line of concern, or even his eyebrows, frowned upon a hard hacking job. His face on the mirror is beautiful, if tired, and his voice sounds loud. 

3326 isn’t sure that he could really be this man. 

**//**

Trevor rolled over his belly, looking at Philip from under his eyelashes. They were lying on the yellow sheets, the one that Trevor made them put over the mattress, because that was the kind of shit adults in 21st used to do, and Trevor was nothing if not awfully clinging to his cover. Like an octopus. Philip, though, was successful in refraining himself on commenting the fact that (in this century) 0115 — Trevor Holden — was not, in fact, an adult. 

“I saw my psychiatrist yesterday.” Trevor started, quiet. “My dose is higher now. That’s why I’m bumping into things.” he sighed. “It’s like I forgot that they were even there.” 

“You should say this to him.”

“I know. I just want to wait a little, to see if things won’t end up better.”

“Maybe it’s just the adaptation period.”

“That’s what I thought too.” 

“Did things went okay in St. Louis today?”

“Well. The food was better.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Outside that, pretty much everything was the same. My name is Nancy, and I’m an addict. My name is Peter — this one is good looking —, and I’m an addict. My name is Philip, and I’m an addict.”

“Did you say anything?”

“Nah. I’m not, you know,  _ ready _ .” 

“You will be, one day.”

“Maybe.” 

They went quiet after that. Silent. Isn’t it weird keep staring at someone’s face? “Are your eyes green?”

“More like blue, I think.”

“What was the color of your eyes, before?”

Trevor looked pluzzed for a moment, quiet doubt around his cheekbones. “Brown.” he answered, finally. 

“Mine were hazel.” 

“Oh.”

**//**

They fed Poppy together the next day. The inner peace is closer than usually, or at least it’s what Philip feels. Whatever that meant, Philip doesn’t have it yet, but maybe one day—

(maybe one day he is going to). 


End file.
